Nothing More Than a Shadow
by Chima
Summary: Sasuke's life finally comes together  and is torn apart.


Sasuke hadn't cried since shortly after Itachi murdered their clan. It wasn't that he was stronger, or tougher, or never wanted to. It was more that he'd cried every tear he had back in the time just after his family was destroyed. It had been so long, now, that he'd forgotten how to cry.

-----

Sakura realized that Sasuke wouldn't - and probably couldn't - love her as she loved him. But it didn't matter much to her. He knew she understood this when they lived together, bedded together, married, when she carried his child. If he were able to, he would have liked to love her, simply for being strong enough to love him though he never could return the feeling. Instead they settled on an existence together, Sakura willing to help him recreate the family he'd lost.

Naruto almost-lived with them. He might as well have, so often was he at the old Uchiha complex that Sasuke and Sakura had returned to. He and Sasuke would still train and argue, just as when they were younger, and Sakura would watch and sigh and laugh and pretend to try to break them up.

Sometimes Sasuke's and Naruto's arguments dissolved into full-out battles. More often than not the fights were vicious and bloody; full of blades and chakra and fury. If the other did any less than try to utterly destroy them, each would be angry. But when all was said and done they would reach out to help each other from the mud and rubble. Naruto always grinned and laughed after a good fight. Sometimes, if it was intense enough, Sasuke would almost smile.

Other times their arguments ended with them fucking. If Sasuke wanted love, he went to Sakura. He was always tender to her, as if she would break, though they both knew she wouldn't. But if he needed to fuck, he went to Naruto. These couplings were anything but loving, and nearly as violent as their most horrid battles. They were struggles for dominance, for power, and neither was ever willing to submit. But they were somehow just as necessary as their other battles. Sakura pretended she didn't know what they did; Naruto and Sasuke pretended they didn't know she knew.

Kakashi stopped by every few days, completly randomly and yet _still_ late. It was almost like having a sort of father, albeit a deadly and more-than-slightly perverted one. He'd stop by for dinner, or to join in Sasuke's and Naruto's training, or simply to sit on the roof and watch the clouds or stars. They didn't argue with him to take off his mask anymore. It was an unspoken almost-rule that if Kakashi was going to stay at the Uchiha complex for more than a few hours, he didn't wear his mask. It didn't always apply, and Kakashi didn't always follow it, but on occasion they'd get to see his smile.

-----

Lying on the roof late at night with Sakura curled against him, or Naruto sitting a few feet away, or Kakashi nearby and pretending to sleep, sometimes Sasuke wished he could forget his anger. Forget that he had sworn to avenge his clan. Forget that even now, with this pseudo-family he'd somehow been lucky enough to recieve - because he certainly hadn't gone looking for it - he still lived for the day he would take his brother's life. He knew he'd never be happy, just as he knew he would never be able to truly love anyone, but he had managed to find a certain almost-contentness on these nights. It was times like these he wished he could forget that at the end of some of their most violent battles, when Naruto was lying on the ground defeated, his whiskermarked face would warp and twist into Itachi's and Sasuke would pretend he'd finally managed to achieve his goal.

He wished he could forget. But he knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he did; and he couldn't forgive himself if he didn't.

Itachi took away the odd family that Sasuke had managed to wrap around himself, just as he stole the genetic one to which Sasuke had always been nothing more than a shadow. He took away the man who taught him, the man who fought him, the woman who loved him, and the child that never had a chance to be.

The day hadn't been anything special. Neither had the night, for that matter. Not until he heard her scream. Not until he raced into their bedroom and saw Itachi with his hand buried in Sakura's stomach, blood pooling around her feet and spattered against the wall she was pinned against. Itachi could've killed her silently, but that would have defeated the purpose.

Sasuke had frozen. For no more than half a second, he'd frozen. But that was enough time for Naruto to come flying in the window, and Itachi to bury a kunai in the blond boy's throat. Naruto had choked halfway through a cry for Sakura, hands going to his throat and eyes going wide before he stumbled and landed facefirst on the floor.

Sasuke had moved then, but too slowly. Kakashi had always been faster than him, and now they both paid for it. Even the famous Copy Ninja couldn't mimick the Mangekyou Sharingan's Amaterasu or move quickly enough to avoid the black flames. Sasuke would have gladly been incinerated slowly by them, inch by inch, for the rest of his life if it could have been him to fall rather than Kakashi. Would've gladly bled from a million cuts inflicted over a million years if it could've saved Naruto. Would've gladly been gutted and healed and gutted again for eternity if he could've kept Sakura from having to feel an iota of pain.

A bloody handprint appeared on Sasuke's face and his head was snapped back. He shouldn't have fallen from just one hit, it was disgraceful, it was _pathetic_, but he toppled backward and landed hard on the wooden floor. He should have been able to stand, to fight, but somehow he couldn't. Instead he laid there as Itachi stood over him, his brother's face empty as it had always been, and suddenly Sasuke knew. He would never be allowed to live. Itachi would let his heart keep beating, his lungs breathe and his limbs move, but Sasuke would never be allowed to live. His precious Aniki would see to that.

"Foolish little brother...Still...so..._weak_."

Sasuke hadn't cried since shortly after Itachi murdered their clan. It wasn't that he was stronger, or tougher, or never wanted to. It was more that he'd cried every tear he had back in the time just after his family was destroyed. It had been so long, now, that he'd forgotten how to cry.

But he hadn't forgotten how to scream. No one ever forgets how to scream.


End file.
